외국인 - foreigners

“There you go Erik, that’s Korea for you, right there.” My friend pointed to a bleary eyed drunk American girl. She stared blankly into the rain, beer bottle in hand, then turned and shuffled her way into the crowd of other tipsy foreigners, making their way to the thumping Korean pop music on the beach.

It’s been a while since I’ve felt embarrassed for being a foreigner…but I felt twinges of it again this past weekend.

The relationship between Koreans and English speaking foreigners, specifically teachers, is a strange one. In the five weeks since arriving here, I’ve seen this bizarre love-hate relationship between the two groups. On the one hand, some Koreans look up to English teachers, and give them a certain amount of respect. Or if it’s not respect, at least English teachers have some clout because of their language…the hot commodity over here.

On the other hand, the perception of foreigners by some is that they’re just loud, obnoxious party goers, who don’t give any respect where it’s due. I was on a bus yesterday coming back from the Boryeong mud festival. There was an incredibly loud group of American teachers in the back. The bus driver was laughing at how the only Korean words these teachers knew were “soju” and “mekju” (liquor, and beer). Apparently, these guys had been drinking the entire weekend, up until the point where they boarded the bus. This one large, loud girl felt it important to make sure the entire bus could hear every single thought that popped into her soju clouded head.

“We f---in’ like to party! We’re from f---ing America, b---!” They must have had some Korean friends with them because the whole bus was treated to an English lesson in how to sound like an inarticulate, foul-mouthed moron.

“No no…this is how you say it: ‘Get the f--- away! Don’t f---in’ mess with me’ Hahahahahaha! Say it again! ‘Don’t f---in’ mess with me!’ Yeah we’re from America! This is how we roll b---!”

At some point during the eternal hour and a half trip, someone must have asked her to be quiet.

“Don’t you f---in’ tell me to be quiet! It’s f---in’ 5 in the f---in’ afternoon!” was the respectful response.

So I gritted my teeth, and wished that I had remembered, like every other Korean on the bus did, to bring my ipod.